


Roll Up Your Sleeves

by Shallott



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Carmilla makes a vampire, F/F, Jealous!Laura
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 06:48:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4050319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shallott/pseuds/Shallott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Is Carmilla Karnstein here?” the supermodel says, not offering Laura a hand. There’s a hint of an Italian accent lacing her words—the way she pronounces Carmilla’s last name with a bit of a flourish is enough to make Laura look twice. And there’s something about the way she’s glaring at Laura that looks a lot like when Carmilla would—oh.</p><p>Laura closes the door behind her and takes half a step forward, jostling the mystery woman back a bit. She never really considered the idea of vampires anywhere but the Silas campus, but now one is at her front door because globalization, probably. </p><p> </p><p>Carmilla turned a vampire back in 1945. It only took her seventy five years to show up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roll Up Your Sleeves

Before she can find another reason to procrastinate yet again, Laura grabs her laptop, a travel mug of cocoa, and four of Carmilla’s books on Kipling, fully intent on going to the library and hammering out the rest of her lit paper before it’s entirely too late to save her grade. She gets the laptop into her backpack without too much of a struggle but the books are another story. Backpack in one hand and the stack of books and cocoa precariously balanced in the other, she manages to get the door open with her elbow, only to trip over a foot.

At least the travel mug was well sealed. 

The actual books themselves don’t look any worse for wear, bricks that they are, but holy _crap_ those are some very thick hardcovers crushing someone’s toes. Her brain is already fumbling for apologies when Laura looks up to see what appears to be a wayward supermodel staring down at her. Scrambling to scoop up the last book, Laura is now keenly aware that said supermodel’s boots are made of what is surely ridiculously expensive leather. Great. 

“Is Carmilla Karnstein here?” the supermodel says, not offering Laura a hand. There’s a hint of an Italian accent lacing her words—the way she pronounces Carmilla’s last name with a bit of a flourish is enough to make Laura look twice. And there’s something about the way she’s glaring at Laura that looks a lot like when Carmilla would—oh. 

Laura closes the door behind her and takes half a step forward, jostling the mystery woman back a bit. She never really considered the idea of vampires anywhere but the Silas campus, but now one is at her front door because globalization, probably. One whose toes she just crushed with the unabridged works of Kipling. One who is looking for Carmilla for reasons unknown and presumably evil. 

“She might be,” Laura says, trying to keep her voice calm. There’s most likely mace in her bag but she has no idea how effective it’ll be against a vampire. Carmilla was getting into the shower when Laura woke up, presumably with the intent to clog the shower drain to previously unknown levels, but Laura isn’t that vindictive that she would actually tell that to potentially hostile strangers with excellent footwear. “Who wants to know?” 

“My name is Miriam,” she says, stepping all up into Laura’s space. She's tall, not as tall as Danny, but Laura still has to tilt her head back to look her in the eye. “I’m looking for my,”—the next word out of her mouth is sounds like someone saying _father_ around a marshmallow—“And I need to speak to Carmilla Karnstein. It’s very important. Please.” 

There’s something weird about this girl—like weirder than your run of the mill vampire, if possible—and it’s making Laura’s hand itch for her bear spray. Her skin has a distinctly grey pallor, there are grocery store sized bags under her eyes, hair attractively disheveled —her whole body looks tired. Carmilla might stay out all night but Laura hasn’t ever seen her actually exhausted, not counting the whole ‘bound and starved’ incident. 

It’s possible, if not highly likely, that Miriam, whoever she might be, is not so much tired as she is _faint from hunger_. Laura draws back as much as she can before hitting the door and Miriam leans right in, her green eyes absolutely enormous, keenly intent on tracking Laura’s every movement. She looks almost desperate with concern. It’s actually creepier than if she was just angry. 

“Are you here from the dean?” Laura asks, which she’s going to regret if they end up being her last words. Carmilla hadn’t mentioned any other hench-people in the dean’s little gang, but Carmilla hadn’t mentioned a lot of things. Like being a vampire. Which is currently about to get Laura eaten. 

“I don’t know any deans, I just want to talk to Carmilla Karnstein. I have been waiting a long time to speak with her.” Her eyes lock with Laura’s, staring her down, and Laura’s gut twists suddenly, commiserating with a rabbit being appraised by a hawk. “A very long time.” 

It’s barely eight am on a Sunday and she’s already being threatened. Great. Laura widens her stance just a bit, planting herself more solidly in front of the door.   

“She’s not here,” Laura lies through her teeth firmly, and Miriam’s expression goes from concerned to panicked. She uncrosses her arms, rubbing at her temples, and Laura feels a little bolder. “I haven’t seen her in ages,” she says with as much confidence as she can throw into it and Miriam looks absolutely petrified. 

“I need to speak to Carmilla Karnstein immediately. Is she coming back soon—” Her eyes jump from Laura to somewhere beyond the door. A beat too late, Laura’s human ears catch the sound of Carmilla cursing as something—probably Laura’s conditioner by the size of the thump—falls over in the shower. 

Miriam turns back to Laura, scowling impressively. Laura can see the curve of a fang under her lip. 

“Okay. Right. If you’re a vampire and you don’t know the dean, what do you want with Carmilla?” Laura says in the steadiest voice she can muster, highly aware that the only thing between Carmilla and what will probably turn into a fanged showdown in the washroom is herself and a very thin door. Laura and her distinctly small, fragile human body. Miriam raises her fist and for a moment Laura’s heart stops—she’s going to be pummelled to death against her own door by some kind of blood-sucking tax collector—until the door opens behind her and she falls onto Carmilla, hair loose and wet, glaring at them in a fluffy brown towel. 

“What is your problem?” Carmilla snaps, but she actually gives Laura a once over like she means it, which is a rarely seen level of consideration coming from Carmilla. Before Laura can respond— _good morning, we’re being invaded_ —Miriam steps into their room, her eyes lit, face practically glowing. 

“You are Carmilla Karnstein,” she says. Carmilla makes a face like a large bug unexpectedly landed on her forehead, which Laura thinks is probably a poor choice. Admittedly, Miriam did show up on their doorstep like a crazed Jehovah's Witness and she may or may not have been about to cave Laura's head in but she hasn't actually harmed them yet. Carmilla being her unstoppably jerkish self might change that.

"Who wants to know?" Carmilla shoots back, backing up to the windows like she might have to make a break for it in a towel. 

That's my towel, Laura thinks a moment too late. 

"My name is Miriam," she blurts out in a rush. "I am from the Venetian coven. It is very nice to meet you."

So in a way it's both better and worse than Laura originally thought Miriam clearly isn't there to hurt them but she's seems to be freaking out about meeting Carmilla. She’s not trying to attack them or cart them off to the dean to face horrors unknown (better). She’s just standing there. Staring at Carmilla (potentially worse). 

“Can I help you with something?” Carmilla says finally, flopping onto her bed. She starts pulling on her underwear under the towel and Miriam seems to snap out of it a bit. 

“I’m sorry,” she says and unless Laura is totally delusional, there’s a subtle flush in Miriam’s pale skin. She’s still staring at Carmilla with unblinking, moony eyes. It’s not entirely unlike the time Laura’s dad took her to the symphony, back when she was eight and wanted to be a violinist, and when they met the conductor Laura was so nervous she threw up on her own shoes.

It’s not exactly like that but it kind of feels like it. 

Three months ago it would’ve been too weird to consider but now it kind of looks like Carmilla has a fangirl. A stalker vampire fangirl. 

“I’m sorry,” says Miriam again, like she envisioned this moment very specifically in her head and none of it is going to plan. “I’ve been looking for you for _so long_ and I thought, I guess I just assumed that you would want to meet me too.” 

“Can’t say I did,” Carmilla says with bored disinterest, entirely belied when she shoots a glance at Laura accusatorially, like it was her fault for letting in the nutjob. But Laura is looking at Miriam instead and Miriam’s eyebrows are starting to furrow. "I don't make a habit of tracking down random strangers, but if that's what gets your motor running, go for it." She starts getting dressed, and Laura turns away, blushing a little. When she looks back, Carmilla is in her usual all-black get up and Miriam is fidgeting.

Laura can sympathize. 

Carmilla picks at her nails for a long moment and looks at Miriam from under her eyelashes, staring her down. “Seriously, do you want something? If not you need to go so I can dry my hair.” 

Miriam looks like she’s been slapped. “I thought—there’s that word again, the marshmallow one—were supposed to be kind.” She stares at Carmilla reproachfully when she says it, and Carmilla’s face goes completely blank. 

“I am not your damn _mommy_ ,” she snaps, and storms out.

 -  

Miriam doesn’t burst into tears but she does ball her fists and takes a lot of deep shuddering breaths, which is somehow worse. “Stay here, please, please just don’t go anyway,” Laura blurts out—she feels like a jerk but she runs for the door anyway. There’s no way she can catch Carmilla but she can at least shout at her down the hallway for being a completely terrible and emotionally insensitive person most, if not all, of the time. 

But instead of having fled the scene, Carmilla is slumped against the wall, knees to her chest. She looks up at Laura and her eyes are tired and angry. Laura slides down the wall to sit next to her, hip to hip, and waits for Carmilla to say something. 

However Laura did not factor in the probability that being immortal makes you really good at withstanding awkward silences without cracking, so after a full minute of sitting there, _she_ cracks instead and says, “You’re not actually her mom, right?” 

She’s pretty sure Carmilla isn’t capable of maternal instincts but it’s so terrifyingly insane that Laura honestly wouldn’t be that surprised if Carmilla said yes and then revealed her secret collection of scowling, broody-hot vampire children. 

Carmilla laughs in a way that’s all surprise. “Not anyone’s mom, thanks for asking.” 

“But you’re her, uh, whatever the heck she called you?” 

“Vohfahr,” Carmilla says slowly, drawing it out for Laura’s monolingual ears. “It’s German for ancestor, literally, but in more—” she pauses as a pack of poetry majors argue their way down the corridor. “In more _unusual_ circles, it’s what you call your progenitor. Your creator.” 

“Oh,” Laura says in a very, very small voice. “So you.” 

“Yeah.”

“And she’s like your.” There’s no word for it that she can think of. 

“Yeah.” 

“But you’ve never mentioned—” Laura pauses. There are several lifetimes’ worth of things Carmilla hasn’t told her. “Or any other vampires you created. Is it just her?” 

“I don’t know,” Carmilla says and it sounds angry but not at Laura. “I’ve never made a vampire. Or at least I thought I never had. It’s not a pleasant process. I never wanted to do that to anyone. I promised myself I wouldn’t a long time ago and it’s been pretty much the only promise I ever kept. Or it was.” She drops her head back against the wall with an audible thunk. If she were human Laura would wince. 

There are several hundred things Laura could say right now and she doesn’t know the words for any of them. She tries to be gentle when she says, “Are you sure that she’s—I mean, do you remember her? Or recognize her from anywhere?” 

“No,” Carmilla says immediately and Laura isn’t entirely sure how she feels about that. “But I’ve bitten people I don’t really remember and sometimes when we’re hungry.” She glances at Laura. “Sometimes you get too caught up in it to really think about what’s happening. I’ve been doing this for a long time, cupcake. I’ve probably bitten more people than you’ve ever met.” 

“Good to know,” Laura says, deeply creeped out. That’ll never change. “But you’re not the only vampire, you know. She might have the wrong person. You might not be her Vohfahr or whatever.”

“Maybe,” Carmilla mutters, looking entirely unconvinced. “We could go on a talkshow, get the whole paternity test done.” 

For a moment Laura has a vividly acute mental image of sitting between Carmilla and Miriam on some kind of parallel universe version of the Jerry Springer show and when Jerry announces Carmilla is not the father, the vampire studio audience starts pelting them with garlic. 

Laura blinks. Carmilla continues worrying at her lip as if it’s gravely wronged her. 

“Or you could just talk to her. She seems, I don’t know, I wouldn’t call her _nice_ but she didn’t try to kidnap me. And she hasn’t bitten me at all,” she adds, nudging Carmilla with her shoulder. Carmilla, immune to all known forms of affection, rolls her eyes. But she gets up and opens the door. 

“Okay,” Carmilla says as Laura trails in. “So let’s say I’m your Vohfahr. But I have no idea who you are and we’ve never met, so maybe you could explain to me how I turned someone into a vampire without remembering it.”

“Maybe instead of blaming me for your carelessness, you could own up to your mistakes and take responsibility for your actions!” 

Laura isn’t sure if being bitten involves a change in personality but Miriam seems to have gotten her temper right from the horse’s mouth. Pun fully intended. But now there are two vampires glowering at each other and Laura’s room is not the place for a jousting competition. 

“Okay, let’s deescalate for a second, shall we? Miriam, you’ve obviously come a long way looking for Carmilla, and I’m sorry for the disappointment.” Carmilla scowls at her half-heartedly. “Carmilla, you weren’t expecting this and your reaction, while rude, was understandable. So,” Laura makes a gesture that looked mostly like desperate pinwheeling. “I think a little communication would be good for you both. With a facilitator,” she adds as Carmilla’s scowl grows. 

“And what, that’s going to be you?” 

“Oh hell no,” Laura says, already edging towards the door. “I’m getting Perry.”

 - 

“Are you filming this?” Miriam says after five minute of total silence. Perry wouldn’t come without LaFontaine, now perched on Laura’s bed with Carmilla.  Miriam and Perry on Carmilla’s, and Laura’s at her chair with cookies. Perry is holding herself so tightly it looks like her neck could snap from stress at any moment. 

“It’s for my journalism project,” Laura says as Carmilla mutters, “Can’t live without that damn thing watching me.” 

“I know,” mutters Miriam and LaFontaine turns so fast Laura thinks they might have whiplash. “Excuse me?” 

“Oh my god,” Perry hisses, absolutely horrified. “She’s been watching us. She watched the videos and she _found_ us. 

“I mean, they were posted online,” Miriam says, suddenly entranced in the patterns of Laura’s duvet. “I think everyone in my coven has seen them by now. We like to make sure we aren’t in danger of being exposed so if anything pops up that seems like it might be a threat, we check it out.”

Miriam isn’t blushing but Laura would bet good money that her only saving grace is that vampires are probably physically incapable of blushing. She at least has the decency to look uncomfortable about the fact that she’s apparently been _watching their lives_. 

Although really, that was Laura’s intention to have any many people as possible watch her project, so this is really her fault. She’s not going to mention that but it pretty much is.

“This is your fault,” Carmilla snarls at Laura. “The entire international community saw me getting kidnapped by your little lollypop gang and now we’ve got strays turning up at the door. Did you even think about what might happen when you posted your little Junior League Pulitzer piece?” 

“We aren’t mad or anything,” Miriam cuts in before Laura can respond with something along the lines of ‘that’s pretty big talk for someone who helped kidnap girls for the better part of three centuries’. “I was always looking for my Vohfahr—I’ve been looking ever since I joined up with the coven in Venice. And I’ve talked to every vampire who was in Europe when I was bitten and most of the ones who weren’t too. I didn’t know I had missed anyone until I watched Laura’s videos but when I saw you, I guess.” She looked at Carmilla with a mixture of tenderness and hope that Laura can’t believe anyone would reserve for Carmilla. “I just knew it was you.”

“Do you have any proof?” LaFontaine says after a long minute. Miriam glares at them but doesn’t have a response. “For all you know, the vampire who bit you could’ve died a week or a month or a year after biting you. You have to admit, it’s a distinct possibility.” 

“I think we would all like to know why you’re here accusing Carmilla without any actual evidence.” Perry has been frowning with her hands in her lap since the second she walked in but now she reaches over and covers one of Carmilla’s balled fists with her hand. Carmilla blinks at her twice but seems more or less alright with it—or she at least doesn’t move her hand. 

It’s not the weirdest thing Laura’s seen but it’s up there. 

“I was born in Tarvisio, on the Austrian-Italian border in 1923,” Miriam practically growls at Perry, and LaFontaine sits up straight. “I was working as a nurse when the Americans were campaigning in Italy, I think it was 1945. My father had already died in Sicily but my brother was still fighting in the liberation army. I had volunteered as a nurse, in case anything happened to him. It was the strangest thing, all these Indian soldiers walking through little villages in northern Italy. They were marching for Trieste, on the coast but they had to stop to regroup because they marched too far north and got stuck on the west bank of the Tagliamente.” 

“So you claim,” Perry sniffs. 

“Do you mind?” Miriam mutters, side-eyeing her impressively. “I was at one of the nurse stations in the area and in the morning I heard that my brother had been killed in combat and they just brought his body home.” LaFontaine puts a hand on her shoulder and Miriam offers back a half-smile. “One of the officers on R&R gave me a ride to my village in his car but the roads were terrible and we didn’t get there until dark. And then—” 

“And then you were attacked,” Carmilla says, voice flat, eyes level on the wall. “Some kind of animal burst out of the forest, broke into the car and attacked the driver. It killed him and then went after you but you escaped into the forest. Then it chased after you for another hour, up the mountain, and when you couldn’t run anymore, it killed you too.” Her voice is as small as Laura’s ever heard it and when she finishes, a smaller sob. 

Miriam looks at her, eyes clear. “I knew you remembered me.”  

\-             

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Laura says, pacing a hole in the immaculately clean rug on Perry’s floor. “Do you think they’re fighting?”

LaFontaine shrugs, spinning a syringe between their fingers. “I don’t hear the dulcet sounds of bloodshed or stabbing so I think they’re probably fine. Unless Carm has a cache of stakes hidden in the floorboards but that seems counterintuitive to me.” 

“If they can communicate their feelings well, it might resolve a lot of the issues between them,” Perry says, carefully scrubbing the grout in the shower. “I’m sure they have a lot of emotions to process. It’s not like Carmilla has much of a family at this point.” 

Laura and LaFontaine look at each other. “Are they actually related biologically?” Laura wonders, tracing the mostly faded marks of where Carmilla bit her. “I mean I know that’s not what makes people family but—” 

“Sweet Rosalind Franklin,” LaFontaine shouts, losing their grip on the syringe and nearly stabbing Laura. “I’ve got to get a blood sample from those two and see how much of a genetic relationship they have. Do you think Miriam would give me a bone marrow sample? Do vampires still produce bone marrow? What kind of immune defenses do you think they have?”

“Dial it back there, sweetie.” 

“Fine,” they huff, falling back onto Perry’s bed. “But if Miriam sticks around for more than another day, I’m asking and you can’t stop me.” 

That is not something that occurred to Laura and now she sits bolt upright. “She’s not going to stay, is she? Like in _my room_? I’m going to have _another_ vampire for a roommate, leaving her blood-filled soy milk container in the fridge and turning the washroom into a nuclear dumping group?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Laura, that would violate the fire code and your student housing agreement. Miriam can’t live with you but, well, there’s no set limit in the roommate handbook on how long guests can stay for if both roommates agree. If Carmilla’s letting her stay then you might have to put up with her for longer than you bargained for.” 

“But that seems pretty unlikely if you ask me,” LaFontaine cuts in hastily. “Carmilla didn’t want anything to do with her. She’ll probably be civil for about a day and then tell Miriam to hit the road. We can’t even prove that her story isn’t a big hoax.” 

“And frankly I’m not sure how Carmilla was the same person who attacked Miriam and the driver in that car. That was not well explained, if you ask me,” Perry adds, hosing down the shower. 

“Carmilla’s mom buried her in a coffin underground after the thing with her ex and she woke up in Austria in 1945. If Miriam was living in a town on the Italian border, it’s kind of unlikely but it’s not totally impossible.” 

Laura is really trying not to think about that part, Carmilla ripping someone to pieces and chasing a girl, a girl not much older than Laura, through a forest before killing her. She knows Carmilla’s a vampire and drinks blood and all that, but the rectangular little soymilk container in her minifridge is a far cry from outright, coldblooded murder. 

“Carmilla isn’t an _animal_ ,” Perry says over the shower spray. “She lives with humans every day and the only person she bit was you, once, after we starved her for two weeks. 

“Per, her mom locked her in that coffin for like seventy three years but it was supposed to be _forever_. That would make anyone crazy.” 

“Okay,” LaFontaine says slowly, assembling the puzzle. “The damage from the battle unearths the coffin and Carmilla escapes and starts running, presumably killing and eating anything she can find. So if she was in the woods near Miriam’s village and heard a car coming by, it wouldn’t be totally impossible for her to have attacked the driver and Miriam.” They glance at Laura. “I don’t like it any more than you but if this is the reality.” 

“Then we better deal with it,” Laura says, squaring her shoulders. “I’m gonna go check on them, just in case they’ve joined forces and started feasting upon the Alchemy Club.”   

\-              

LaFontaine insisted on coming for scientific rigor and Perry wanted to know if Miriam had brought any prohibited substances onto campus and so here they are, crouching outside of Laura’s door like the Three Stooges. 

“Is that actual laughter?” LaFontaine whispers before Perry and Laura shush them. “I didn’t know Carmilla could laugh.” 

Laura thinks of Carmilla’s wide, rare smile and shakes her head. “If they’re not doing anything murder-y then we can just go in, right?” LaFontaine shrugs. 

She pushes the door. It’s doesn’t move. Laura stares at the knob. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“The door’s locked.” 

“It’s _your_ room,” Perry hisses. “Use the key.” 

“I don’t have it,” Laura whispers back furiously. “I never lock the door.” 

“Oh my god,” LaFontaine says in a way too loud voice and starts pounding on the door. Laura could die. “Carmilla? Miriam? Open up already, I know you can hear us.” 

The door jerks open—Perry nearly trips over Laura—and Carmilla is there, scowling at them. Miriam, Laura can see, is diligently pouring two glasses of blood by the fridge. There’s a laptop set up on Carmilla’s bed—Laura didn’t know Carmilla even had a laptop—and the whole thing is just profoundly, utterly weird. 

“Sure, come on in,” Carmilla sighs as LaFontaine strolls inside, tugging Perry in their wake. Laura hangs back, standing in the doorway until Carmilla frowns at her and swings the door impatiently. Laura looks up at Carmilla, entirely unsure what the fuck is happening, and Carmilla gives her a tiny shrug before turning back to Miriam and the laptop. 

"What's going on here?" 

Miriam passes Carmilla one of the glasses and takes a long sip of blood. "I was going to show Carmilla where I was born to prove that my story is real, the story in the newspaper, all the facts I have. And the leader of my coven wants to meet her." 

"Cecilia, right? With the eyebrows?" 

"You know her?" Miriam all but squeals with delight—Laura gives LaFontaine a significant look and finds them already giving her one in return. 

"We met at a party in the Doge's palace back in 1843. She was pretty memorable." 

"Okay, well that's not any of our business, so we'll just go," Perry says, starting to hustle LaFontaine back out the door but they cross their arms and raise a significant eyebrow at Laura. 

"What?" Laura says, feeling stupid and Laf gives her a look of actual, real despair. "Oh right. Miriam," she starts, not at all sure how to play this, "Do you have a hotel booked? A place to stay?" 

Carmilla and Miriam exchange a look. "Well Carmilla said I could stay here for a bit while we got to know each other, but if that's not alright with you." She grabs her jacket off Carmilla's bed and turns towards the door like she's going to leave this very minute. Carmilla rolls her eyes, grabs Miriam by the wrist, and says something in Italian. 

(Because of course Carmilla can speak Italian. Of course.) 

For her part, Miriam looks marginally mollified and says something back that makes Carmilla grin. The room, Laura notes, is beginning to feel small.

"I said she could stay, if that's okay with you and housing won't kick me out," she says, nodding to Perry. "We'll be up most of the night anyway and then crash when you're at class or whatever you do when you're not slaving in front of a webcam. So Miriam will sleep in my bed during the day and I'll get some pillows and curl up on the floor." 

Laura can't remember the last time she ever woke Carmilla up and wasn't met with a snarl. Okay then. 

"So how long is this going to go on for?" LaFontaine inquires, a keen look in their eye. "Because I have some questions for you about—" 

"Well," Perry says loudly before LaFontaine can commit another ethics violation. "Laura, if that's alright with you, I don't have a problem with it. Laura?" 

Laura looks at Carmilla, who is as relatively unreadable as always, and slides her gaze over to Miriam. The look on her face is almost painful in its earnestness—like a fanged, attractive Tiny Tim. Laura, as a rule ingrained into her from near birth by her dad, avoids things that are fine with eating her but Carmilla seems to like her. Carmilla likes Miriam and they're smiling at each other and trading quips in Italian. Laura doesn't really have the heart to say no. 

"Can you keep a washroom clean?" 

Knee jerk, Carmilla turns to her and says, "Really? You're still on about this?"

Laura could very easily counter that she's still 'on this' because there's still filth _on everything_ but Miriam clears her throat first . "Of course," she says, swaying a little in place. "Thank you so much for letting me stay." She reaches out and grabs Carmilla's hand, intertwining their fingers. Carmilla looks mildly shocked but doesn't pull her hand away. 

Laura really needs to not be here. 

"Yeah, of course, no problem," she says, all too aware that her face is warming rapidly. She fumbles for her backpack and the Kipling books. "I've got a lot of studying to do so I'm just gonna hit the library and I'll see you guys later." 

"Are you sure?" Miriam says quickly, looking from her to Carmilla. "It's your room, I don't mean to intrude if you want to be here." 

"Oh no, no no, no." How many times can she say no before it gets weird? At least once more. "No, it's fine. You guys have a lot to talk about, I'm sure, and I don't want to cut in."

"Well then we'll be leaving too," Perry announces in her mom voice, finally getting LaFontaine out the door. "Miriam, I hope you have a lovely time here at Silas."

"I'm sure I will," Miriam says, leaning against Carmilla a little. She waves at Laura as she goes. "Bye!" 

- 

Her paper is barely half way done, it's nearly midnight, and Laura wants to collapse onto her bed and never get up again. She trudges up the stairs to her room, down the hallway, and realizes she _still_ doesn't have her key. Carmilla might still be here. She might not have gone out with Miriam to ravage the townspeople or whatever a couple of hot vampires would do together. 

Before she can knock on the door, a peal of laughter bursts out from under the door and hits Laura in the gut. In the last three months, she can't think of a single time when Carmilla laughed like that. 

She leaves.

- 

"I'm sorry to bother you so late, and, and I know I didn't call or text or anything but I was just hoping that you might still be up?" Laura blurts out in one long torrent. She shifts the weight of her backpack from one shoulder to the other. The Summer Society building is bigger than she realized. 

"Hey don't worry about it," Danny assures her, a smile unfolding in the corner of her mouth. She looks softer with her hair up in a messy bun, big glasses slipping down her nose. The slipping light from inside makes her look almost luminous. "Do you want to come in?"

"Yes," Laura says and shuts the door behind her.

**Author's Note:**

> This is set sometime between Episode 24 and 31. All of the information is as historically accurate as I could make it. 
> 
> If you like this or Carmilla or in depth discussions of the Italo-Austrian border, you can find me at eggtrolls.tumblr.com


End file.
